Grasping at Straws
by gaki 0
Summary: Bulma finds herself grappling with a desperate need for a new type of companionship at the chilling news of her planet's fate.  In this short collection, the heiress blindly and naively plunges into the first step of the budding "relationship."
1. Fatigue

Chapter 1: Fatigue

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><p>Bulma stood alone in the kitchen as a pale morning pink filtered into the large the Capsule Corporation windows. The guttural noise and delicious smell of a fresh pot of coffee filled the brisk air. She watched as the black drips of liquid plummeted into the dark pool collecting in the glass carafe. The woman shuffled her feet in her fuzzy, comfort slippers. The sound that the trivial action seemed to reverberate through the large room, and then echo inside her sleep muffled brain. She placed her hand on the cool, marble counter and shook her head in shame.<p>

The heiress had broken up with her long time boyfriend after she learned that everyone would be dead in two years. Their constantly mediocre and dead-end relationship had not bothered her in the short euphoric stage after he had been wished back to life. Hints of his previous infidelities and foolish antics had stayed hidden around corners, barely peaking into consciousness before they quickly slid back into the shadows of her thoughts. She had spent days picnicking and sunbathing enjoying his evidential infatuation with her beauty and genius. But after returning to her home that day, her perfectly safe world took on a more sinister appearance. Yamcha's cheerfulness seemed fake, and his entire personality morphed into a charade. She would glance at his body appreciatively, but the attraction melted as soon as he beamed his goofy smile at her.

Bulma remembered the moment of her epiphany as the beginning of a new segment in her life. She was sitting by the pool watching the reds and purples of the sky dance on top of the clear water. _He's living in a dream world_, she had thought to herself. _And so was I_, she continued begrudgingly. She felt an aching pain in the pit of her stomach. She had been dumping years of her life into their relationship, but that life came crashing down just as easily as the sun settled into the horizon.

Now here she stood in the aftermath of attempting to revive her previous bliss. She grabbed the handle of the carafe roughly and poured herself a cup of the steaming black coffee. Shuffling towards the kitchen table, she sat down in a plummet of exhaustion and let out a long, quiet sigh through her nose. Bulma had been lonely, but she knew that was not the correct excuse. _I'm weak_, she thought to herself in miserable acceptance.

It had been one week since she ended their relationship. Her childhood boyfriend was full of tears and pleas, but she stayed strong and followed through with her purpose. Unfortunately, her freedom did not bring the satisfaction she had hoped would come from accepting the truth. It only brought loneliness and sexual frustration. She would lie in her bed, stare at the ceiling and wish someone was there to hold her. When Yamcha came to beg for another try, she had welcomed him with open arms.

The blue haired woman blew a small stream of air onto her coffee. Glancing down she watched transfixed as small waves rippled on the top of the dark fluid before settling back down to placidity. Her eyes trailed to the spot in the house that the human warrior now slept. Wrapped in her silk sheets, he was probably settled into happy complaisance. In his eyes, his love had accepted his plea, and they could continue their life together.

Bulma once again shook her head, but this time in disgust. Their life had once been an adventure, but it had quickly settled into serenity. At that time she had even been satisfied with the idea of marriage and children. The thought of sleeping next to the same man for the rest of her life brought butterflies of anticipation to her stomach. Then, the Saiyans came to earth.

The fear of impending doom awoke something in Bulma. And she found herself unable to identify the amalgamation of new feelings that erupted within her. She remembered sitting in the small island home staring intently at the magical orb after her boyfriend's life was stolen. There was an indescribable rush which coursed through her body when she looked into the soulless, black orbs of her lover's murderer. Then she attributed the sensation to the pain of loss, but now she linked the feelings to the suggestion of a new escapade. The alien man shoved the intriguing idea of adventure down her throat and ripped the idea of peace from her mind.

Namek had offered even more to ignite her desires and trigger the fundamental change in her outlook. Traveling to different worlds and narrowly escaping with her body intact had been absolutely exhilarating. And for one of the first times, she saw a brutal and chilling existence. The universe was a cold, cruel place. She felt lucky to have her peaceful planet, but also wantonly sheltered from true existence. As Bulma watched the dashing man named Zarbon being ripped to shreds by the primal Saiyan Prince, she began to question her ability to perceive her world. She had been wrong about the gorgeous, green man and the dark, surly prince. The man that had been her enemy had become her ally, and then her house guest. In parallel to these transformations were changes more close to home. Her strong, bandit boyfriend was slowly shriveling into a weak, ordinary human.

Bulma took small sips of her coffee while she mulled over her situation. She could not give in to the peaceful temptation that a life with Yamcha brought her. That only led to dissatisfaction. The usually boisterous woman questioned her strength. _Can I do this alone?_ She was nearly thirty and still no closer to finding her prince charming than she had been as a teenager. Bulma's head snapped up as she heard a door shutting outside the cocoon the room provided.

The beautiful woman placed a hardened scowl on her face knowing that her solitude would be disrupted. The alien man sauntered into her kitchen without even a glance at the table. She relaxed her face, when she realized that he was intending to ignore her. She then allowed her gaze to trace his nearly naked body. A small smile crept onto her face when she saw that the moody prince had deigned to finally wear the sneakers her mother had bought him. The bright, white shoes clashed with his deeply tanned skin accenting his naturally stunning tone. His skin always had a strange ability to look both hard as rock and soft as satin. Her examination continued up his legs as he walked across the room towards the refrigerator, and she could see his calf muscles tightening with each of his commanding strides. As he reached forward to grab a large orange jug from a lower shelf, she continued to approvingly gaze at his figure. His back was covered in the light sheen of sweat which accentuated the strong web of muscle strapped across his shoulder blades. Her eyes followed the curve of his shoulder as she absentmindedly sipped from her mug. She needed a distraction from her self-hating thoughts and luckily the Saiyan Prince provided that sufficiently.

She heard a rough disturbance in the air, and lifting her gaze, she found herself locked in the intense glare of Vegeta. She questioningly cocked her head to the side and softly released an equally puzzled noise. She knew he hated to repeat himself and watched as his frown deepened. The corners of his tight lips turned down a minuscule amount as if tiny, invisible strings were tugging against his effort to remain unreadable. Her eyes then shifted to his set jaw where his clenching teeth made his strength even more pronounced. It reminded her of the powerful jaws of a jaguar; every move the man made reflected the power that coursed through his body.

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><p>Vegeta roughly slammed the refrigerator door in irritation and issued his command once again, "The room needs upgrading." He watched her delicate face intently, perfectly aware that she was focused on every part of him except his voice. He had barely suppressed a smirk when he turned to find her dreamily staring at him. He took an indescribable amount of pride in himself, and he was not beyond allowing her attraction to increase his opinion of himself. He secretly congratulated himself, but then berated his low standards. It was no feat to attract one that thought the weakling human she had stashed in her room was a prize. He grimaced at the thought of being compared to the pathetic man. A low rumble bubbled in his chest and his lip curled faintly to flash a small amount of white teeth.<p>

The action seemed to wake her from her revere, as she stood up and walked past him to pour another cup of disgusting liquid. His eyes flickered towards her ridiculous foot covering then to the back of her head. On Namek he had admitted her beauty, but now he attributed his announcement to his sleep deprivation. The woman's body was nothing better than he had seen at countless space stations, and her coloring, though unique, was not awe inspiring. On Earth, he merely found her difficult to deal with and frustrating to be around. His training room's advancement was in her control, and Vegeta hated having anything outside his sphere of influence.

The Prince took two long strides towards her small frame and slammed one hand the smooth counter next to her personalized mug. The object jumped in fright, dark liquid spilling on the white counter and seeping into the cracks which his fist had caused. He allowed a heated breath to be exhaled on her exposed neck and noted the tiny shiver that slid up her slender body. "Now, woman," he huskily said into her right ear. In response, he saw her chest heave as it filled with a long, calming breath. He had seen this type of action from his victims before; their last attempt to regain any semblance of control before fear overtook their body. He felt a devilish smirk crawl its way to his lips and allowed the pleasant sensation caused by invoking this type of reaction in the usually confident woman.

Bulma turned with coffee cup in hand and side stepped his wide frame. Her eyes were kept safely from observing the Saiyan and glued to her destination. She took small, shaky steps towards the arched door frame, betraying her lack of poise. Vegeta felt his anger mingle with a tinge of esteem towards her undeniable courage. Men a hundred times her strength did not have the audacity to ignore him so blatantly. She waved one hand in the air dismissively and mumbled, "yeah, yeah." His murderous glare followed her movements as she exited the room, but he contented himself with the knowledge that she would do as he told.

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><p>The heiress to the world's largest and most lucrative corporation was kneeling headfirst inside a cylindrical white object which was housed in a hot spherical chamber. When she thought of that small nuance in her life, she felt an ironic chuckle emit from her chest. The pants of her oil-stained coveralls were all an observer could see if they felt inclined to enter the chamber christened Vegeta's. But as she tinkered with various parts in the belly of the Saiyan's worship, she had little worry of any intruders. She was as safe in this capsule than anywhere else in the house and to be perfectly honest, she was not quite ready to face her ex-boyfriend.<p>

She sighed melodramatically at the idea. Brave enough to face a murderer of planets, but she could not muster the courage to face the previous night's mistake. She gripped that wrench tightly, as she loosened another piece from the mainframe. Bulma did not even know if she had enjoyed herself. The sex had been good; good in the same boring way. Yamcha attempting to say he loved her with soft strokes and gentle kisses. Shame surrounded her as she realized how horrible her thoughts were. _Shouldn't I want a loving man_? she thought to herself. But the thoughts that held true in the morning still lingered throughout the day. Yamcha was not satisfying some base need within her.

The beauty had suspicions that the need was exhilaration. Her mind reacted instantly, _what could be more exciting than dating a famous baseball star?_ After this morning's 'excitement,' she had an idea of what could be better than a pampered sports star. She cursed under her breath at her ridiculous subconscious. She lifted her head quickly at the thought and was rewarded by banging against a strong metal bar. The universe's version of a Freudian slip throbbed to remind her of her foolish thoughts. With one final twist of the wrench, the mainframe came loose, and she retrieved the small blue chip which was inserted in the case.

Prize in hand, she wiggled her way out of the small hole. A button on the side of her garment caught on a screw which was jutting from the side of her hole. She loudly cursed, "Shit." Then she crawled back in a few inches and tried to make her exit again. She had freed herself from the clutches of the screw and felt an unwarranted amount of glee enter her body. She stood on her two legs, held the blue chip in the air and did a small victory dance. Just as she was about to break into a new style of dance, she heard his rough voice emit from against the wall of the chamber.

"Done yet, woman?" He was leaning against the wall in mock indifference. His arms crossed in front of him in displeasure and annoyance, but it was the expression on his face that gave away his true thoughts. A small smirk had tugged its way to his lips, and his eyes flickered with the brightness of bemusement.

Pulling her arms straight to her side, Bulma huffed at his disruption. Sticking her nose in the air to hide her embarrassment, she haughtily said, "I'm done dancing, if that's what you mean." She watched him down the bridge of her nose as he pushed himself off the wall and strutted toward her nonchalantly. Her legs told her to leave the room, her heart pumped faster in the chest, and her breathing became erratic as the man stalked towards her. Bulma stubbornly held her breath firmly and planted her legs to the cold tile of the gravity room floor. She would not let this Napoleonic creature scare her in her own home. "Maybe I'll get the room running again tomorrow." She forced her body to meet his halfway and commanded her tingling hand to pat his impressively firm arm. "You could use the break, big guy." If Bulma had not been so frightened of taking such casual liberties with the dangerous man, she would have laughed at his response.

He practically jumped a foot back at her touch and puffed up his chest in indignation. In a booming voice, he harshly responded, "I do not need a break, you daft woman." He stared at his room's technician as if she had lost her mind before continuing in a more malicious voice, "Need I remind you of your planet's approaching doom?"

Bulma gazed at his frazzled state with her cerulean eyes and dragged her long black lashes down slowly before opening her eyes once again. Touching him had obviously disrupted his authority in the room, and she chuckled quietly as she thought about the Saiyan's apprehensions toward physical contact. She responded in a low, innocent voice, "Are you referring to the android threat or the Saiyan threat?"

Her comment caused a charge of fury to explode across his frame. His response was fueled by his previous inability to conquer the small, peaceful planet. "Damn right, I'll destroy this mudball." He was practically roaring at her now and had regained his ground to be standing directly in front of her. His broad chest was millimeters from her dirty coveralls, and her breasts brushed against his firm body as she took deep, calming breaths. His fists were clenched at his side in anger, and his eyes were swirling with anticipation.

She could feel his hot breath on her face and smelled a distinct masculine scent. The thrill of her perilous position traveled through her entire body, and she bit her lip at the welcomed sensation. When she stared into his infinitely black eyes, Bulma was unsure if murder was at the forefront of his thoughts. _Gods, he's intense_, she thought to herself agreeably. Waves of heat from his body washed over her as she felt her mind begin to swoon in excitement. She turned around abruptly and as she left the room, she chokingly murmured over her shoulder, "Right, I've got work to do."

Once outside the suffocating chamber, Bulma placed a hand on her chest in relief. _You're an idiot_, she told herself. She was absolutely confident that her morally insufficient house guest would chew her up and spit her out if given the opportunity. As she thought about his ravenous exertion towards his desires, she flippantly thought, _would that be so bad?_

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><p>Thank you for reading. I would absolutely love to hear from you! As a side note, I will be finishing this story and I haven't given up on my others. This story will cover the first step in the couple's 'relationship.' I even have most of it written already!<p> 


	2. Attraction

Chapter 2: Attraction

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><p>By the time she had exited her laboratory sanctuary, her ex-boyfriend had left the house. A note on her bed-side table told her that he had gone to a team practice. A sigh of relief fell from her body as she undressed to take a much needed shower. She looked at her body through a full length mirror trying to discern any signs of aging. She would be thirty in a week and that thought caused a deep sadness to flow through her mind. She turned her body to the side and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes trailed her pale white skin to the swell of her butt and then down her thin legs. <em>I may be alone, but I'm still hot<em>, she thought narcissistically.

If she had gotten her teenage wish, she definitively knew that Yamcha was not the man she would have received. _The Perfect boyfriend_, she scoffed to herself. Her face betrayed her disapproval with the immature thought as it twisted into a cynical smile. She was well beyond wanting the perfect boyfriend now; she needed her dream man. And to find her dream man, she just needed to widen her pool. She may have to date a lot of men to find him, but she knew he was out there. Waiting. She stepped into the hot shower and relished the feeling as her muscles compulsorily relaxed under the deluge of heat. She closed her eyes and a recent dream came unsolicited to her memory.

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><p>It was dark. Not dark as in pitch black, but dark in a strange foggy way. Bulma could not see her surroundings and as she lifted her hand, she realized she could not see her body either. A small amount of fear crept into her body with a pin prick of sensation and a tightening of her muscles. She stepped forward cautiously holding her invisible hands in front of her as she traversed her strange environment. She remembered thinking she was in a dream, but the thought seemed to have occurred so long ago that she doubted its truth.<p>

Suddenly, she felt a hot thick arm strap itself on her stomach before it languidly found its way to the curve of her side. As the arm traveled across her bare skin, its owner came into hazy view. His powerful, encompassing eyes were all she could see as Bulma instinctively pulled herself against his hard body. She felt his hand continue to the small of her back and then trace her spine with a rocket of indescribable feelings. She lulled her head back in absolute enjoyment and wrapped her arms around his strong neck.

The dark room felt cold next to his absolute heat and as she held her body against his, she felt a piece of her very soul had been found. Her mind did not try to analyze her predicament, and her memory sensibly refused to identify the man before her. He and the moment were only a collection of sensations that flooded her body with undulations of perfect bliss.

Both of his large hands were on her now. As one wrapped firmly around her waist, she felt the other continuing to creep slowly towards her neck. His tight grip bordered pain, and she could feel his fingers producing dimples in her soft skin. His thick fingers entrenched themselves into her hair, and she felt them tighten around her silky tendrils. He roughly forced her head to stillness as he slowly lowered his moist lips onto hers. She was completely engulfed by the man's embrace and demeanor.

Firecrackers exploded out of her nerves as he sucked and nibbled her lower lip. She felt his tongue lightly brush for entry which she admitted without hesitation. A battle of wills and ardor ensued between the two as they fought for dominance over the heated kiss. She had never in her life felt so much passion flow towards her. The kiss had the force of rushing waterfall; the plummeting leap and fall towards a whirlwind of displacement and mayhem. She moaned into his mouth and felt the reciprocal noise of appreciation escape from the muscular chest of her assailant.

She opened her eyes that she did not remember closing and stared into the face of her dream man. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt recognition swamp her like a boat being sunk in deep sea. Her incubus stood before with an expression of cool confidence. His familiar ebony eyes penetrated her desires with cold determination.

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><p>After that dream, Bulma would never look at Vegeta the same way again. The man that she had admitted was 'kind of cute' in the past had morphed overnight into a hellishly attractive fantasy. She had made jokes about the dream, hoping to relieve some of the tension. She told herself that her decision to leave her boyfriend was independent of her disturbing vision. But the idea haunted her days and threatened her nights.<p>

Bulma looked at her hands and noted the wrinkles that had long formed on her fingers. She did not know how long she had been in the shower, but it had obviously been long enough. She shut off the water and began to dry herself in a daze. She told herself that when she met the perfect man, she would no longer need to fantasize about the alluring and sinister Prince. Crawling into bed naked and pulling a thin sheet over her heated body, she closed her eyes and hoped for a dream-free slumber.

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><p>Bulma's mother was prepared; she was ecstatic; she was absolutely thrilled. The day was finally here; her beautiful daughter was going to have the absolute best birthday party known to man. It did not matter that her blue haired girl had begged for her not to throw a party. The older woman had merely nodded her head yes, all the while planning the most extravagant shindig her well proportioned budget could muster. Men and women were whipping around the house in a frenzy transforming her humble abode into a darkly lit and stylish nightclub. She ran her finger down her flower scented checklist: cake, guests, entertainment… At the last word, Bunny's face twisted into a wicked smile. It would all be perfect.<p>

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><p>A trip to the spa was exactly what Bulma had needed. When her mom told her about the appointment that morning, she had immediately departed for the extravagant resort. The eight hours of relaxing messages, facials and hair styling was one of the best gifts the spoiled woman had received. She ran her hands through her freshly fluffed hair and tried to forget the mayhem waiting at home. The last week had been a horrible conglomerate of breakups, first dates and one perpetually anger Saiyan. She barely had time to fit her Capsule Corporation duties into her busy 'dream man' mission, but she had even less time to be constantly fixing the machine that her houseguest was breaking daily. She jutted her bottom lip out of her mouth in an exaggerated pout. <em>And I still haven't found him<em>, she thought to herself peevishly. Her body was beginning to demand satisfaction. She dreaded returning to Yamcha and inadvertently breaking his heart again.

A man dressed in colorful livery opened a large glass door for her as she refreshingly stepped out of the building. Popping open a capsule, she jumped into the red sports car and mechanically drove home. Her mind wandered to the men she had been seeing. Each one had been as overwhelmed as the next by her persona. Half of them had told her that they used to dream about her, which although flattering, was not exactly what she was seeking. The bottom line was that they all lacked fire; they were all boring, unadventurous suits. She sighed, exasperated by her never ending search.

She barely saw the driveway as she pulled up to the gate and blindly entered her code. She pulled into the long drive and heard a dull thudding emitting from the main house. She pulled her brow together in confusion as she parked the car and exited the vehicle. Opening the front door to the house, she imagined bowls of comforting ice cream and a marathon of romance movies.

A blast of noise greeted the surprised woman, as familiar faces jumped from corners, chairs and hallways. They all shouted in unison, "Happy Birthday." Bulma's stomach dropped, but she smiled a sweet smile as she secretly cursed her deceptive mother. She barely recognized the dimly lit room to be their expansive living room. An assortment of differently colored lights hung from the ceiling casting an interesting array of colors onto the walls and floor. She did a double take as she noticed several scantily clad men walking around carrying delicious looking drinks.

Before socializing, she flagged one of the men down and grabbed a blue drink which was complete with a little umbrella puncturing several small pieces of fruit. She grabbed the umbrella, smiled at the bronze skinned man and allowed her eyes to drift down his bare chest. Placing one of the cherries into her mouth, she could not help but think, _I've seen better_.

After several minutes of floating about the room, gulping down her drink and saying her 'hellos,' she spotted Goku and his family. Rushing up the goofy man, she gave him a large bear hug, which she then transferred to the other two family members. "Aw Gohan, you've already grown so much!" She ruffled the boy's thick Saiyan mane and received a cheerful chuckle in return. Bulma's eyes then turned to Chi-Chi who was looking disapprovingly around the large room. "Long time no see, Chi-Chi."

The younger woman's dark eyes turned to Bulma as she whispered, "Bulma, those men barely have clothes on." Chi-Chi looked absolutely shocked and embarrassed by the division of men in small tight boxers. Bulma found her discomfort strange considering that the woman must be accustomed to seeing the god-like bodies that all Saiyans seemed to possess.

Bulma waved her hand playfully at the raven haired mother, "Oh that's nothing to what usually stalks these halls." She felt rather than saw Goku eyes snap to hers and turned to beam a bright smile at the tall man. She held up her hands defensively before cheerfully saying, "I have no idea where that jerk is." She then turned to his wife and satisfyingly said, "I've been at a spa all day!" Bulma placed her empty drink on a nearby table and snatched another from one of the boxer sporting servers. She laughed at her mother's idea of a good time as she saw the blonde ogling a young man she had trapped near the stairs. "I've got to go punish my mother, see-ya in a few."

The man her mother was draped on looked just as confused as uncomfortable. The poor guy did not know how to react when the wife of one of the world's richest men was groping his chiseled arm. Bulma interrupted the action with arms crossed in front of her chest. "Mom! Is this your idea of no party?" She tried to keep her face straight at the sight before her, but a smile cracked on her lips at her mother's response.

Her mother's eyes opened a fraction of a centimeter before returning to their cheerful crescent moon shape. The pleasure in her mom's voice completely erased any of her previous anger as the blonde jubilantly shouted, "Oh, isn't it just wonderful!"

The heiress rolled her eyes dramatically and gave the man a sympathetic look. Littering her speech with sarcasm she said, "Yep. It's a dream come true." Depositing her empty glass, she turned to climb the stairs and change into something more acceptable for the event her mother had probably spent months planning.

She entered her room and switched her brain to force herself to enjoy the large gathering downstairs. She pulled the small royal blue dress from her closet and dragged it over her body. The dress fit her like a glove extenuating her best assets, but she still highlighted the area with a plunging necklace. The shinny crystal fell just at the beginning of her visible cleavage, and she winked at the image of herself before bouncing towards her door.

If she had continued her happy-go-lucky mannerisms, she would have smacked herself directly into an irate Saiyan. Instead, she only nearly smacked into an irate Saiyan. Bulma threw a hand up to catch herself and gripped his tense, hot biceps. He did not give her a second to recover before he aggravatingly shouted, "What the hell is all that, woman!" He pointed one finger to the stairwell and looked at her accusingly.

With two strong drinks already in her system, Bulma did not feel particularly inclined to release her hold on his flexing arm. She also was not disposed to acquiesce to his demand for information. She cocked her head to the side innocently and soft said, "What do you mean, Vegeta." At that moment, saying his name was like a deliciously dark pleasure. She licked her lips slowly as his sharp, brutal sounding name rolling off her tongue languidly. She squeezed her hand up to where his bicep ended and his rounded shoulder muscle began, and then continued to travel upwards in an attempt to drape her arm around his neck.

He shrugged her arm off violently, looked at her apprehensively, regained his composure and violently retorted, "Don't play with me, human." He snarled the last word in an effort to wake the woman from her strange behavior. His eyes flickered to her attire, caught at the top of her exposed breasts only to be dragged back towards her cheerful face. He would allow the woman to stare at him, but he would not return her behavior. He narrowed his eyes at her threateningly, but did not receive the response he had intended.

Bulma looked up at him pleadingly, and stepping into his hot dangerous aura, she coyly purred, "Why, don't Saiyans play?" She could see confusion pouring out of his eyes as he smelled the air suspiciously. The action was so animalistic it reminded her of the savage way he had held her in her dream. She drew her finger to trace his rippled abdomen muscles. "You know," twisting her head to the side, she glaced at him through her thick eyelashes before huskily continuing, "Humans usually get presents for their birthdays." An idea raced into her head momentarily: she could postpone her 'dream man' mission until after the androids came if Vegeta could temporarily satiate her needs.

Apparently the idea did not settle well with the already annoyed man. "Get your filthy hands off of me," he materialized on the other side of the narrow hallway before roaring, "I would never lower myself to the level of a pathetic human!" He looked absolutely disgusted, angry and disheveled.

Bulma's eyes turned to slits and her teeth mashed together before she shouted back, "Well, I guess you better get used to not getting laid." She whipped her head towards the stairs and stomped away in a humiliated fury.

Upon reentering the party, she saw her father sitting uncomfortably in one of the seats in the living room. She took a breath, tried to clear her mind and went to greet her poor out of place dad. "She went a little overboard, didn't she?" Bulma asked once she was in front of her father. He laughed quietly. She always loved how his smiles could be seen peaking underneath his thick mustache.

"I hear you've got the room up to 300 G's now," her father cheerfully asked the question without knowing the dangerous lashing he would get in return.

"Ugh, that ungrateful, short prick! I don't even want to talk about that stupid toy of his." She yelled back to her father. Wrestling another drink from an increasingly attractive server, she gulped down a large mouthful in a frantic rush.

Bulma's father smiled knowingly and nodded his head, "Sure thing, sweety." He had never known where his daughter had inherited her mean temper. His wife and he were as easy going as they come, but his daughter could rip the skin off an alligator with her viscous tongue.

She took a deep inhalation of the foggy room. _She even bought fog machines!_ Turning to her father she said, "I'm going to dance." Without waiting for a reply, she walked to the dance floor and started dancing near the closest available male.

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><p>Vegeta stood in the dark hallway contemplating the loud women's words. He had been so focused on training that he had little time to think of pleasure. It had been close to two years since he had used a woman properly, and his groin tensed in response to his realization. She had been right for once: if he wanted to have sex with any regularity, he would have to take a pathetic human. Traveling to space just for a sexual encounter seemed rather tedious. He could see little harm in taking a human until he left the peaceful mudball.<p>

In the past, he had never had to win a woman over with charm; generally his looks or wallet won them with minimal effort. Given his encounters with the two lecherous Briefs women, he figured the same would hold true on Earth as did on space stations. He thought longer about the human's behavior he had witnessed and noticed a troubling pattern: they all had ridiculously sentimental relationships. Vegeta saw absolutely no need for monogamy, but it was overwhelming present on this planet. He would absolutely not allow such a weakness to overcome him.

He imagined there were available women prepared for a detached entanglement directly downstairs. The blue haired one would be particularly convenient, but he doubted she had the ability to not get emotionally attached. The woman wailed with the slightest provocation. But one idea completely derailed the idea; the Saiyan could not imagine a situation where their sexual activities would not affect the status of his training room. He grimaced at the thought and mentally scratched the woman off his list. He did not need any particular woman; any willing partner would be acceptable.

Once Vegeta descended the stairs, he was blasted with irritating sounds and smells. As a mass of sweaty dancing bodies gave off their sickening odor, he thought to himself in disgust, _Humans_. Curling his lip slightly, he scanned the energy signals to find his fellow Saiyan waving frantically at him from the opposite side of the room. His disdain grew even greater, and he began to question his dedication towards his goal. There was little on this planet that could justify having to talk to that moron. He looked towards the next energy signal his mind reached for and noted the blue haired woman in the middle of the room.

Bulma's white skin had a light sheen of wet stretched across it which produced an ethereal glow. She flashed like a beacon across the room, and he felt his body move along the darkness of the walls to get closer to her. The woman had an intoxicating drink in one hand while the other was wrapped around a shirtless man. She had her eyes closed and was moving her body suggestively against the lesser man. His brow crease together as he looked at the young barely clad man. Resentment bubbled in his chest and as he recognized the sentiment, he vanquished it from his mind. He turned his head to look at an adjacent wall to find her pathetic, castaway mate. The man looked beaten and torn. Vegeta smirked viciously at the agony on his face, and then perused the room with his eyes.

To his left he caught a curvy redhead in his sight and at his penetrating stare, she began stalking towards him. He recognized the primal look on her face and quickly scrutinized her assets. _Pitifully fragile_, he thought to himself as he analyzed her small wrists and slender neck. She approached him tactlessly as she placed a probing hand on his broad chest. "Aren't you a tasty treat," the redhead said in a deep voice. Vegeta looked at her contemptuously as her hands sunk lower down his shirt. He could smell copious amount of alcohol and deciphered a slight slur to her speech. Her sneered at her dry hair and wrinkled his nose at her skin's smell. She smelled potently like sugar and not like fruit or mechanical grease. He growled at the comparison which led to sugary woman to lean further into his body. "You're so hot," she said in surprise and then giggled to herself.

At that moment, Vegeta realized he would rather travel to space than deal with Earth's bizarre women. He looked down at the groping woman, turned his face slightly away from her and flatly saying, "Not interested." A small 'O' formed on her lips and then transformed to a pout. She was about to speak again when he curtly added, "Move along, wench." She pushed off of him reluctantly and sashayed away from him.

Eventually he located the buffet table. Unfortunately, his nemesis had also detected the food. As he quickly placed copious amounts of food into his mouth, he ignored the talkative man that stood beside him. How such a person could be so idiotic, but still stronger than him infuriated the smaller Saiyan. He filled two large plates with food, sneered unwelcomingly at Kakarot and brought his feast into the kitchen. His refuge was dimly lit like the previous room, but devoid of any extra bodies. He quietly ate his food, and then retreated to his training capsule.

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><p>After hours of strenuous exercise, Vegeta finally felt the party begin to dwindle. He entered the back door of the house warily and read the clock to say three o'clock. Passing a few drunken stragglers on his way through the living room, he noiselessly entered the hallway. At the bottom of the stairs sat the blue haired woman fumbling unsuccessfully with her white heeled shoes.<p>

Her eyes slowly drew up to his as a lazy close lipped smile pulled across her face. She slowly sucked in her bottom lip before saying, "Hmm … Vegeta." She then bit her lip more pronounced and stuck a thumb into the ankle strap of her shoes. His eyes were drawn to her delicate ankles, and then up her legs to her exposed thighs. Her small dress had ridden up her supple legs to settle just at the apex of her thighs. He ran his dispassionate gaze up her thighs and saw the slight swell of her backside. He could barely discern a small patch of red between her legs and felt his groin respond. She then leaned forward, and grabbing the railing of the stairs, pulled herself to a standing position. The task was more than her disjointed body could handle as she tumbled towards him ungracefully. Without a thought, he shot his thick arm around her slim waist, and her soft body crushed into his unforgiving muscles. She made a small 'umph' noise and placed her hands flat against his chest.

She looked up at him trustingly, and he felt a vague indescribable twinge in his chest. He was about to release her small body when she blinked her big blue eyes at him and softly asked, "Will you take me to bed?" Her eyes were pleading, and her body was flat against his. He admitted to himself that he enjoyed her soft curves and intoxicating scent. Realizing the fact that her inebriation would erase this memory, he reached his other arm down, placed it behind her knees and pulled her into his chest. She giggled in response and kicking her feet childishly in the air, she nuzzled the side of her face into his chest. In a barely audible tone she whispered, "You smell good." Then closing her eyes, she began to trail her index finger lightly over his chest.

Climbing the stairs, he began to feel discomfort towards the feeling that was settling in his stomach. It was not just attraction, it was something like pride for the delicate beauty he held in his arms. The Prince reminded himself that he had seen better and pushed the uninvited reaction from his body. As he grappled with his own thoughts, he felt her small finger grabbing the top of his shirt, and he looked down at her crossly but inquisitively. She made a small whining noise and huffily said, "I wanna compare." He snorted in response, and pushed open her bedroom door with his foot.

Holding her a few feet above the bed, Vegeta unceremoniously dropped her onto the soft cushion. She bounced lightly and spread out her arms and legs to steady her fall. She looked up at him irritably as he darkly chuckled at her predicament. Her dress had now abandoned its duties and had become merely a shirt. Her bright red panties flashed in the barely lit room and served to draw his eyes to her creamy hips. His focus narrowed on her hips, and he instinctively licked his lips as he thought of running his teeth along the protruding bone. She was beginning to disentangle her legs and stand from the bed when he returned his gaze to her bright eyes. She pulled her dress back down, stuck her head into the air and snootily said, "Alright your turn." She stood before him proudly, not even faltering as she swayed drunkenly. He once again found himself impressed by her strength and stepping towards her, he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

Her eyes immediately fell to his chest, and she followed her eyes with her hands. She placed the tips of her fingers at the junction of his collar bone and shoulder, and then ran them down the crease of his chest. He heard her take a deep breath and felt it being released on his exposed skin. She bent forward, placed her hot wet tongue just above his right nipple and then drew her mouth around his skin. Her teeth lightly brushed his hard skin, and he felt a ripple of excitement run through his body. Grabbing her by her shoulders, he shoved her to the bed and looked at her suspiciously. _This is a bad idea_, he thought to himself. Without a word he left her room for a long cold shower.

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><p>~~~ Author's Note ~~~<p>

Thank you for reading and I'll give a special thanks to my two reviewers: preciousjade76 and DamonaVeggi. Your comments really inspire quicker updates! Let me know if you find any mistakes or issues in my plot line!


	3. The Proposition

Chapter 3: The Proposition

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><p>After her lips had passionately fallen on his skin that night, Vegeta felt an undeniable attraction towards the female. When near her, his skin would flare with heat and his body would begin to react. He felt like the same confused and helpless version of himself from over a decade ago. His hand formed into solid fist on the kitchen table. Coming to grips with his sexuality and the loss of his race underneath the vindictive eye of Frieza was a time in his life he never wished to relive.<p>

Those years had been filled with a long string of purging missions were little emotional growth was possible or welcome. Vegeta's only role models were the two subservient Saiyans who he looked down on as weak and mentally inferior, but he cultured behavior from them none-the-less. His comrades saw woman as instruments, and the young Prince absorbed their ideology even before his initial intercourse. Frieza always had partners available for his hungry soldiers, but under the watchful eye of the demented lizard, the Prince had never felt the pure desire that plagued his body around the Earthling. A similar feeling would flutter through his young body when he saw the whores on base ships, but Vegeta's boyish sexual feelings fled quickly after he experienced sex. Vegeta hands formed into solid fists as he thought back to that first sexual encounter.

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><p>The room smelled like blood but then again, he was most likely the cause of the delicious odor. The potent aroma wafted off of him as thick clots of liquid dripped to the floor with hollow sounding splats. He watched as the dark liquid pooled around him and quietly rejoiced at the thought of angering the lizard with the sticky puddle. He kneeled in front of his Lord with a self-satisfied smirk across his face. Frieza had taunted the Prince only one day before, "This planet may be too much for you to handle alone…" After singlehandedly eradicating the local population of Bozart, Vegeta felt his Saiyan honor reclaimed. The Prince had been extremely satisfied in his performance and although the planet's tiny inhabitants had left him sliced and bleeding, he still held himself with his infamous pride.<p>

Frieza glared at his young soldier but savored the vengeful aura that filled the room. The young boy he had claimed only a few years prior had quickly turned into a passionate man. There was nothing the lizard creature enjoyed more than invoking a response from the fervent little Saiyan. He would attack his monkey's masculinity from every angle, but his virginity was his favorite. Frieza had hinted at his lack of virility in his sickening sing song voice, a sinister smile spreading across his lips, "Yes, yes, we all know you can fight, but there's more to being a man." A shiver of pleasure ran across the white, shinny skin of the tyrant as he watched Vegeta's tail bristle with rage.

Frieza liked having beautifully dangerous things around him and although he would not call the Saiyan Prince pretty, there was something undeniable about his persona. The tyrant could constantly feel the young man fighting against him and Vegeta's brutal treatment brought a rush of excitement through his body. Frieza looked directly into the Prince's enraged eyes and ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass. He let three curt, feminine laughs exit his body and then brought one of his small hands up to cover his purple lips, "Oh, yes. I suppose your father gave you up before he taught you that..." His sinister voice fluted across the air in a soft whisper, but he knew the Prince would hear his barely intelligible words. He lifted one of his small, delicate fingers in the air and a side door opened to reveal a young girl.

The prepubescent girl stood in a thick burlap shirt which barely covered her hips. She hunched her shoulders inwards in an attempt to cover her exposed body. Her spindly legs were entirely visible, and she held them together both out of shame and fear. To her right a doll-like creature hovered above the air and to her left knelled a stocky and frightfully dangerous looking young man. She was not sure which figure was more terrifying. She heard the cool, almost girly voice of the man to her right say, "Let's just call it a gift, monkey. Try and enjoy it properly." Her face immediately snapped to the man to her left as she tried to gulp down air through her dry, constricted throat. She scanned his body and noted the multiple lacerations. Looking at the outline of his furious scowl and bulging muscles, she could not place his age but guessed him to be a few years older than she. His body was covered with thick clumps of drying blood and she sickeningly thought, _that's not his blood_. Then she heard the doll creature speak again, "But then again, maybe you don't know how…"

Her breaths were now being taken in small quick secession as she tried to remain calm. She was not exactly sure what was being hinted at between the two men, but she was sure it would be ominous for her. After her planet had succumbed to the wrath of these armored warriors, the females of her family had been thrown in holding cells. Now, she had been separated from her mother for days and dreaded that she would never see her face again. Her dull, brown eyes shifted towards the kneeling man as his head snapped up to glare at the speaker. His black eyes flashed with hatred and an overpowering anger. She felt her body began to quake as his head slowly swiveled to bring his concentrated stare towards her. When his intense eyes set on her frame, a small terrified squeak emitted from her mouth. He stood slowly, smirked maliciously and took long powerful steps towards her fragile, shaking body. She watched transfixed as a brown tail unfurled from his waist and began to lash through the air behind him as he stalked in her direction. Her world narrowed to only the approaching man and an overwhelming sense of doom impeded her ability to think.

Vegeta materialized behind the frozen girl and grabbing her slender neck with one hand, he placed the other on her protruding hips bone. Fury coursed through his body and completely clouded his mind. He would be the strongest in the universe, and he would not be demeaned by his captor yet again. Dragging the whimpering girl in front of him, he quickly flew to a table beside the tyrant and rammed her small frame face first onto the cold metallic surface. _Of course I know what to do_, he thought to himself bitterly. He grabbed a fistful of the rough garment and harshly pulled it from her body. He would prove his manhood to the surveying man at absolutely any cost.

He wrapped his powerful tail around the girl's rib cage to hold her in place and tightened his constricting grip slowly as he prepared himself for entry. The young Prince was not sure what to expect from the terrified body beneath him but entering her quickly, he callously heard the cracking of bones as his tail involuntarily reacted to her body's enveloping caress. An overwhelming feeling of power filled the young Prince. It was different but equally as addicting as taking another's life. His hard armor rhythmically jammed against the base of her back as he furiously drove into her. A growl escaped his throat which he stifled by sinking his teeth into her soft flesh. His powerful hands dug into her hips as the gratifying feeling shrouded his senses. He was finally dominating rather than being subjugated. He could hear the little girls screams of agony intertwine with the delicious sounds of cracking bones. He tasted her tangy blood and savored the primal feeling which overcame his senses. Frieza took a sip of his ruby red drink and watched in sick satisfaction as the vicious Saiyan mutilated the body of the little slave girl.

With a roar of satisfaction, Vegeta felt his climax take hold of him with jarring strength. He took one breath feeling as if he were alone in the room, free from the clutches of servitude. He then stepped away from the broken girl, pulled up his pants and shot the floating man an attesting glare. Reaching forward he grabbed one of the sniveling girl's arms and threw her to the floor. He looked at her wrecked form momentarily before he stretched a hand out in front of his body and released a blinding ki blast in her direction. Her body disintegrated in his powerful blast the same way every other body did before hers. When the room had returned to its original pallor, Vegeta looked at his enemy from the corner of his eye. Raising his chin smugly, he curled a lip and said, "make my next mission more challenging." He smeared each of the words in hatred, his eyes blazing with passion. With military diligence he exited the large chamber, the tip of his tail disobediently twitching behind him in the after effects of his pleasure.

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><p>Vegeta grimaced at the memory. Sex had never been about pleasure to the Saiyan, only power. As he forced himself into the young girl, he had been too foolish to realize he was only demonstrating Frieza's power over him. Vegeta never forcibly took a woman again, but he knew he had forever lost a piece of his honor. His boyish anticipation towards sex died at the hands of the lizard and had stayed dormant ever since. Vegeta's tightened fist slammed into the oak kitchen table causing a splinter to form across the length of the object. He trembled as he cursed at how easily he had allowed the freak to manipulate him. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his mind back to the present. <em>Frieza was dead<em>, he thought to himself calmly. No one would ever have that kind of control over him again. He opened his eyes and staring at the pile of food in front of him, his mind begrudgingly wondered to the attractive woman and her aggravating effect on him.

The domineering Saiyan did not appreciate having his body out of his control. The blue haired woman was forcing unwelcome sensations to flood his body. His hair bristled at the idea of his reaction to her. He had never felt this type of need consume him. He reveled in the pleasurable sensations that would rack through his nerves at her proximity, but resented her ability to cause his unmanageable reaction. He had spent the weeks after the party grappling with his body's uninvited response.

Vegeta noticed her trying to avoid him, and he welcomed the opportunity with eagerness and disappointment. He would catch small glimpses of the woman as she departed on her multiple outings. She seemed to be undertaking a marathon of men, and he wondered at the reason, but then reprimanded his attention. _Her actions don't concern me_, he would tell himself while watching her hug dates in greeting. His teeth would gnash, and he would plot his kitchen visits to intimidate her pathetic male visitors.

What angered the Saiyan more than her promiscuous behavior was her blatant disregard towards his training equipment. The room needed upgrading and the battle droids were lethargically firing low energy beams. He would demand her to work on his training gear and remind her of her planet's fate, but she would merely evade his attention and fiddle slowly on her personal projects. He knew there had to be a way to divert her concentration properly, but he was at a loss.

As he sat at the kitchen table eating his lunch, he stared out the window at that days doting male. He seemed to be talking incessantly at the virtually naked woman which made Vegeta question his masculinity. A blind man could see the woman was begging for a different sort of attention; he could practically smell her need. Another microburst of anticipation shot through his body and he clenched his teeth to repress the shudder it would cause. The Saiyan sneered out the window at the feeble excuse of a man. He watched as Bulma reached forward to place a hand on the man's shoulder, and he felt a rumble developing in his chest. Jealousy swarmed through his body and he fully delved into the feeling at is clouded his awareness. The Prince was more acquainted with these more sinister set of emotions, and he felt it acceptable that a warrior of his caliber succumb to their strengthening effects. So through passionately narrowed eyes, he watched as the blue haired beauty flirted with the human.

Vegeta secretly thanked the blonde haired woman as she interrupted their interactions with a tray of drinks. The human male looked embarrassed when he noticed the older Briefs woman next to them. Vegeta's anger then snapped out of existence; he knew the spoiled woman would be displeased by her date's lack of focus. This man was not tough enough for the family's little princess. It's rare that a man is, he thought to himself consolingly and continued with his meal no longer disturbed by the happenings by the pool.

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><p>She looked at Mike, or was it Mark, from her perch by the pool. She had decided to tone down her date setting for this attempt. Lounging in her tiny black bikini, she wondered if it had been a bad idea. The man had talked incessantly when she walked out in her bikini and now he seemed uncomfortable and distant. Her mother was delivering lemonade by the poolside, and her date thought it necessary to socialize in return. Her ridiculously cheerful mother seemed intimately involved in this date; she was always happy to live vicariously through her daughter's love life. Bulma stood up, fixed her sunglasses on top of her head, and went inside to grab a snack.<p>

The kitchen's most frequent visitor was in his usual spot, stuffing his face in that strange thorough way. It had been several weeks since her mortifying seduction attempt at her birthday party. Her mind raced with memories from the event. He had turned her down early in the party with a look of absolute disgust. To top that off, her first full day at thirty had started draped across the top of her bed still in her party dress and heels. But when she found his shirt on the floor of her bedroom, her vacant memory supplied her imagination with many nightmarishly embarrassing scenarios. She had tried to completely ignore the man afterword, but he still hunted her down to work on his precious chamber. The man never hinted at her drunken advances, and she secretly thanked what or whoever was responsible for his discretion.

She opened the cabinet next to the sink, reached up and grabbed granola bar from the top shelf. She felt his dark eyes on her with a prickle of discomfort. Turning around rapidly, she was surprised to find his expressionless stare still on her. "What," she spat out in frustration. He infuriated her beyond belief. Over the course of these few weeks, he had intimidated three of her dates away before she could get downstairs to greet them, conniving convinced at least two to not call her again and blatantly lied to one about their relationship. She pulled her lips into a tight frown and squinted her eyes evilly at the man.

Vegeta shifted his eyes to one of the kitchen windows, waited until her gaze followed, and then flashed her a devilish smirk. "This one seems to like your mother better," he tauntingly told her in his low, rumbling voice. He could almost see her hair stand on end along her entire body. He chuckled darkly, stood from his seat and stalked towards the sink, plate in hand.

Bulma threw one hand up to signal him to stop advancing. "You're not fooling me Vegeta. Don't use that plate as an excuse to try and intimidate me." She tossed her chin up in a striking display of confidence, "It's not going to work." She stood her ground and placed her hands on her hips for added effect.

His eyes danced with mirth as he once again released an amused chuckle. The little human stood before him like an empress under siege. He turned his glare towards her body and allowed a deliberately slow sweep over her exposed flesh. He lingered on the swell of her breasts and the soft skin at the upmost tip of her legs. He watched as her chest started to heave in anger and redden in embarrassment. He tossed his plate back onto the table, took a step closer to her and gruffly said, "It seems to be working, woman." She huffed in exasperation and made her way towards the kitchen exit. He stepped to the side, effectively blocking her exit. She looked at him with obvious frustration before turning to look away from the attention seeking man. He grabbed her slender arm forcing her to look at him. Once gaining her full attention, he harshly but quietly said, "Three of my bots are waiting for you, woman." She struggled against him, but his iron grip did not release her.

Bulma stilled her movement, scowled into his sadistic face and set her jaw, refusing to give into his demands. She had already spent too much time doting on the insatiable Prince. It felt like hours passed as she was locked in a battle of wills with her house guest. During that time, his grip on her arm lessened, and he moved his thumb slowly but meticulously in a circular pattern. Her eyes glanced towards his offending finger which stilled at the attention. She tried to roll her shoulder slowly away from his hand and merely succeeded in rubbing his knuckles against the side of her breast. He pulled her closer to his body, and she felt a familiar heat begin to build in her womb.

The warrior's bare chest sent off waves of heat which once again brought her mind to her spitefully memorable dream. She looked into the eyes of her captor and immediately felt trapped in their penetrating stare. Her expression turned blank as the reason for this particular battle escaped her. All that raced through her mind was his intimate heat and soft looking skin. She brought her chin towards her chest in shame of her body's reaction. His hand encircled her neck, slid up to wrap his fingers around the back of her head and firmly entrench themselves in her hair. His thumb traced her throat before forcing her chin upwards and demanding her eye's attention, he licked his lips lightly and parted his mouth.

Bulma's heart was pounding in her chest and her skin was tingling with excitement. She simultaneously prayed for an interruption and wished they had the house to theirselves. A slickness began to form between her thighs, and she minutely rubbed her legs together in anticipation. Then, she heard the outside door open and delivered a victory smile to her combatant. She knew he would not allow anyone to see him touching her. He growled ferociously before roughly releasing her and exiting the room. She stared at his back as he exited the room and tried to wake herself from her excitement induced dream state.

Her mother came in like a ray of sunshine. But her delightful voice took on a sorrowful tone as she announced, "That delightful boy left, honey." Bulma focused her eyes on her mother and released a tiny peep of puzzlement. Bunny turned to her daughter with a large smile, "I don't blame him. When he saw you and Vegeta in that embrace, I had to tell him the truth." The older woman said the last line as if the truth was evident around them.

This awoke Bulma from her haze. "What!" Bulma shouted before continuing, "An embrace!" She was pretty sure whatever Vegeta had been doing to her would not be called an embrace. _Sexual intimidation maybe,_ she thought to herself in frustration. Calming her boiling temper, she continued, "Mom … what did you tell him?" She wanted a response from her mom, but also dreaded to hear what her mother considered the truth.

Her mother perked up and dramatically began, "I told him you were involved in a passionate love affair with our dangerous and sexy house guest." She winked at her daughter playfully. Bulma's mouth was slack jawed in outrage. The blonde continued, "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have been in your place a few minutes ago."

Bulma's stature completely deflated and her voice was reduced to a whimpering whine, "We're not having an affair, mom." Her shoulders sagged; she pouted and continued, "He won't have me." Her mind caught the words coming from her mouth, she scrunched up her nose and angrily said, "Not that I want him." When she heard her words in the air, they sounded like a lie, but she held to the statement regardless.

The blonde nodded her head in reassurance and softly said, "He'll come around, sweety." She then grabbed the plates from the table, brought them to the sink and began to clean them mindlessly. Bulma sighed at her mother's misunderstanding and stalked back outside to dive into the pool.

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><p>Hours later, she found herself drifting in and out of consciousness as she took little naps by the poolside. The sun had just began to set and the cool night air was starting to drift through the air. The blue haired woman was completely relaxed when she felt Vegeta's recognizable electric aura near her. With eyes still closed, she harshly asked, "What do you want?"<p>

Several of the man's desires flashed through his mind. He stared down at the close-lidded, barely-clad woman. _Power_, he thought to himself earnestly. This Earthling could give him several different avenues to his needs. He caught himself wondering what her skin would taste like before he shoved the thought from his mind. In an emotionless, dry tone he responded, "My training equipment."

Bulma sighed dramatically, put a hand to her forehead and answered, "Well, I want male company and you don't see me whining." She thought the comment was apropos and congratulated herself momentarily. Her frustration grew as she thought about the many men Vegeta had frightened away. She sighed at her situation; she was never going to find her 'dream man.' She dragged one of her hand to lay above her poof of hair and lulling her head to one side, she thought, _maybe I should just give up_.

Vegeta amusingly watched her theatrical display and felt a tug on his lips as he voiced his cutting remark, "Then what the hell are you doing now?" The woman before him was obviously wallowing in self pity. His eyes fell to her huffing chest and underneath the dark stiffer material of her attire, he could barely see her skin tone's natural lighter shade. He silently wondered why she would fight against that alluring creamy white skin color. With his mind filled with her corporeal advantages, he barely had time to languish in the anticipation of her fiery response.

Her bright blue eyes flashed at him in indignation. "You scare them all away," she thought about her statement for a mere second before continuing unfalteringly, "I don't get my men, so you don't get toys." She brought her head down in a curt, decisive nod. Angling her chin away from him, she turned her head and closed her eyes again in an effort to ignore the looming man.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed at her statement. He doubted that the situation was as simple as she claimed, but he probed it anyway. "Having a man would allow you to focus on my training equipment." After the words left his mouth, he belligerently convinced himself that his training was instigating his interest and not her alluring body.

She opened her eyes in annoyance and shot up in the air. "Yes!" She was caught in another stormy argument with her houseguest. _This is ridiculous_, she thought to herself as he stared at her impassively. She was lonely and the only male company that lingered for more than a day was a deranged and seemingly asexual warrior.

Vegeta looked passionlessly into her face for a few minutes before replying briskly, "I accept." He could not reject the idea that his gravity room and battle droids would receive attention and all he had to do, was satisfy himself with her. He felt his groin begin to respond to the idea and fought to manage his physical reaction. From his cloud of anticipation, he saw her evident confusion and filled in the holes for the supposed genius. "You fix my bots, and I'll satisfy your man need."

Bulma stood with her mouth slightly open. "Wha…," was all she managed to release before he snapped visciously.

"I'm not going to repeat myself." He barked the words as the thought of her refusal angered him monstrously. He knew the woman coveted him; she was constantly gaping at his body. Just a few hours ago, she was practically moaning in his arms. As the seconds ticked by his anger transcended to fury, and he barely controlled his body from shaking. _I will not be refused_, he heatedly told himself.

After staring blankly at him trying to figure out the proper response to such an offer, she licked her lips slowly. The uneasy action attracted the Saiyan's furious eyes which then narrowed in expectation. "Okay," she shakily said. He stormed away from her in rage and frustration leaving a confused woman in his wake. _Wait_, she thought to herself, _what just happened?_

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><p>~~~ Author's Note ~~~<p>

Thank you Smile For Me Please, Ayaka86, Andijvie and preciousjade76 for your reviews! It's so nice to hear from the readers. Andijvie, I think this story has a lot more of Vegeta's perspective. As I feel like I have said a million times, I would really like to hear what you guys think about the first scene.

And you, none reviewers! ( gaki_0 points her finger indiscriminately into the crowd of cowering readers), I want you to write a review! You can tell me … I suck, that you've read better, that you'd rather jump from a moving train than read another chapter of my garbage, etc. Any feedback is good feedback. I just don't know how I can go on writing without your comments ( gaki_0 dramatically throws her head backwards, splays her hand onto her forehead and sighs ).


	4. The Attempt

Chapter 4: Attempt

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><p>The day had started like any other. Bulma woke to the sound of her alarm, took her shower, got dressed and descended into her lab. The battle droids were laying haphazardly in the middle of the large room. The determined woman blocked their daunting implications and began dismantling the objects in order to slowly rebuild them. As the hours ticked by her anticipation for the nights events grew steadily. By noon, she found herself uncomfortably fidgeting in her chair and glaring at the bots as if they were the cause for her discomfort. She completed the final chip for the automated battle machines and stood up to stretch her sore muscles. Her stomach gargled in hunger and she admitted to herself that she would have to brave leaving the lab for food.<p>

As she slowly walked to the kitchen for lunch, she anxiously wondered if he would be there. She imagined him backing out of their agreement; she foresaw him roughly teasing her inability to find a man. She doubted the battle hardened man would bypass an opportunity to make her uncomfortable. With all of her foreboding prognostications, she had not guessed what he actually did at the lunch table.

Vegeta sat in his spot, eating his prepared food methodically, and did not raise his head from his meal in the slightest. She watched him warily as he blatantly ignored her. Doubt cascaded down her entire body as she questioned her impulsive decision to enter their strange arrangement. She barely heard her mother's greeting and mumbled something inconsequential in return. The frightened woman did not take her eyes off the man as she grabbed a plate from her mother and sat down at the table. She turned her head down towards her plate, brought her fingers to her lips and looked at the Saiyan through the tops of her eyes. Still the man ignored her.

Her mother said something about laundry and floated from the room. Bulma bit her lip and softly said, "I just need to install the new chips and then they'll be ready for you." She doubted each one of her quiet words which made her feel like a scared teenager on her first date.

His eyes darted up to meet hers with their familiar intensity before instantaneously returning back to his plate of food. "Hn," he practically grunted like a caveman.

Bulma wondered if he regretted his decision and merely felt obliged by honor. _Does he even have honor? _She wondered to herself in response. If he backed out now, she was unsure if she could face him again. Her nervousness was indescribable. _I never felt this unsure with Yamcha, but then he wasn't a cocky egocentric asshole. _Her mind was doing summersaults causing her to lose all her previous hunger. She pushed her plate away from her and stood up to return to her lab.

As she walked down the starch white corridor, she could hear him briskly following. With each of his almost silent footsteps she felt one tiny tendril of nerve fracture. Her temper responded to her uncomfortable situation. As she opened her door, she whipped around to face his indescribably close body and haughtily asked, "What?" He raised an eyebrow at her sudden display of anger and gave a sideways glace towards his unfinished toys. "Ugh," she groaned in frustration. She dejectedly admitted that her nerves were completely shot. "Fine, just give me a few minutes."

Bulma walked over to her table and grabbed three small chips and a tiny screwdriver. She sat down on the floor next to the droids and unscrewed the metal plates which guarded the circuitry. While she was involved in her work, she felt her confidence slowly return. Keeping her eyes diverted towards the three spherical objects, she barely spoke the insecure words. "You know," swallowing a gulp of air down her throat, "we don't have to…"

He broke into her sentence without allowing her to finish. "What are you babbling about woman?" His rough voice cut through the air decisively. His annoyance was evident in each of his harsh words which he barked from a few feet behind her.

She still felt obliged to continue and turning around to look up at him from her sitting position, she attempted to once again broach the subject. "I'm just saying," her voice came out as a squeak through her constricted throat, "It's alright if you want to back out." She found herself almost wishing he would comply with her statement.

His arms crossed in front of his chest as he glowered down at her proudly. His tone was arrogant and decisive, "Saiyans don't back down, fool." Reaching down to grab the three finished bots in his arms, he strode casually from the room shouting an order as he disappeared from her sight, "Just be in my room at ten."

* * *

><p>It was five after ten when Bulma peaked into the man's open door. She took a few small steps into the room and closed the door behind her. Turning around she saw Vegeta walking out of the bathroom steam issuing from the room behind him. He looked like a demon god issuing forth from the depths of hell to give one night of pleasure to a mere mortal. Bulma mentally rolled her eyes at the thought and immediately diverted her focus to the floor.<p>

Wearing her pale blue silk robe, she awkwardly stood with her hands pinched together in front of her breasts. She was unaware of where to place her big blue eyes with the view that stood before her. _What's wrong with me_, she thought to herself. She had seen the man more covered than he was now; in fact, the towel covered more of the Saiyan man than his small training shorts did, but the sensual mood had infected her brain causing a nervousness to erupt unexpectedly. The darkness of the room engulfed everything but Vegeta. He stepped forward successfully dragging her eyes to his. The dark orbs betrayed impatience and anticipation along with the familiar, although decreased, anger. She bent her head down slightly and drew a thumbnail between her teeth before biting down in small, uneasy nibbles.

As her thumb entered her mouth, he followed her thumb with his soulless eyes and smirked condescendingly. Her nervousness only heightened his animalistic need. Closing the gap between them, he grabbed her wrist and forcing the thumb from her mouth, he pinched her arm behind the small of her back. The action was so sudden that Bulma barely had the time to struggle before she was effectively trapped by the man's powerful grip. She placed her other hand on his chest, her palm flat against his bulging pectoral muscle. Her pleading eyes stared up at the Saiyan, and she could feel his voice reverberating in his chest before the noise left his lips. "Backing out, little one?" He teased her bravery in a deep, rough tone.

Her mind scoffed at his taunting and in response, she smoothed her well manicured hand up chiseled chest to wrap around his steel cord of a neck. His skin was still hot and damp from the shower. _You wanted this_, she reminded herself in an attempt to wash away her fright. In as seductive of a voice she could muster through her anxiety Bulma said, "I'm all yours, Ouji-sama." She ran her nails into his thick mass of hair, delighting in the miniscule shiver she received from the usually unresponsive man.

Hearing his official title huskily breathed from her parted lips was nearly enough to fragment his weakening command over his body. He bent towards her long slender neck and brought his moistened lips down on the pounding artery in her neck. His teeth scraped her delicate skin as he ran his tongue along her slender neck. She tasted exactly like she smelled, and he practically purred in satisfaction.

She stared at the ceiling of his darkened room as he savagely tasted her salty skin. Her eyes rolled into her skull as he continued his path towards the back of her ear. She released a low, soft moan as a tingling sensation ran down her spine to settle neatly between her legs. She pulled herself flush against the rock-hard Saiyan, and his thick hardness greeted her expectantly.

He released her wrist and brought his surprisingly smooth hands to her bare thighs. Wrapping his fingers around her flesh, he lifted her body deftly to rest the apex of her thighs against his. She swung her legs around his body and trailed her hands to the top of his towel, tugging lightly like a petulant child being refused her favorite toy. Vegeta chuckled darkly before quickly pulling the object from its wrapped position. She practically mewed in happiness and brought her red lips against the hot flesh of his collar bone. The man smelled more like a man than any she had ever been around. His smell alone made her feel like a delicate woman expecting to be stolen away by her dark hero. She was practically drowning in his passionate and alluring aura. She whispered his name in contentment ending in a drawn, breathy moan. He smelled like danger and excitement, a combination that sent her nether regions tingling with sick anticipation.

Her excitement painted the air with its thick, musk scent. He could barely contain his all consuming need as it twisted and fought against his innate desire for control. He brought one of his hands to the back of her robe and pulled forcibly. He earned a squeak of surprise from the human as the unyielding silk pulled against her soft, white skin. Her desire engulfed eyes were speckled with a hint of fear and surprise. The depth of her soul could be read in those darkened blue spheres, but Vegeta had little interest to interpret her feelings. He merely sought satisfaction, which he was determined he would receive.

He quickly pushed her against his bedroom wall and obtained a small noise from the woman as the air rapidly left her lungs. Positioning her hips with his strong hands, he entered her without delay or tact. Her velvety body enclosed around him satisfactory, and he stilled his efforts momentarily to appreciate the spectacular feeling. Unexpectedly, he was engulfed in the warm rush of comfort that descended upon him. He felt a small, previously dormant part of his chest rouse to the peace that her body brought him. He grabbed hold of the weakness to smear from his consciousness, but before he could erase it, a surge of long sleeping emotions fought to absorb his thoughts. He closed his eyes to regain control of his passion. He focused on her smooth skin and the physical sensations that racked his body from their united centers.

As he selfishly indulged in the experience, he had nearly forgotten about the woman attached to the sensations until she began to rock against him rhythmically. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy and soft, alluring moans were erupting from her mouth. With each rhythmic move, her breast bounced and tickled his bare skin. She tightened around him in enjoyment, and he caught the building noise that threatened to escape his throat. Not one to be manipulated, he pinned her further into the unforgiving wall and began pounding into her delicate body with long, powerful strokes. His attention no longer wavered from the physical effects of his deliberately consistent motions; he merely removed his mind from the situation, just as he had done in every other sexual experience. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back which roughly forced her body into an exaggerated arch. He pulled his head into the crook of her neck and commenced to bite and suckle the sensitive skin.

Bulma could barely think as his massive body entirely dominated hers. She had never experienced anything so all-consuming; she could barely think over his completely oppressive demeanor. She lulled her head to the side and gazed sightlessly in front of her with lidded eyes. Her hand gripped at his thick hair, pulling when she felt he was too rough, but secretly delighting in the violent treatment. The sensation bordered pain as her body stretched to encompass his thick length. Through her haze, she heard a barrage of moans only to realize they were emitting from her now sore throat.

Everything culminated at the base of his spine, and he struggled to lengthen the time with a few more desperate pumps of his hips. Then the stinging, satisfying eruption spread throughout his entire body as he felt the ultimate release. He squeezed his eyes tight and threw his head back with a locked jaw. He would not allow any noise to escape as an intense relaxation attempted to overtake his body. Vegeta's knees felt weak, his brow loosened, and he felt a slow, happy breath seep out of his clinched teeth. He forced the standard mask of distance on his face before pulling his head back level. She was staring at him expectantly, in a manner he did not feel the need to understand. Grabbing her by her hips, he stepped away from her. He pulled himself from inside her and narrowed his eyes as painful pleasure once again rippled through his body. He ignored the feeling and tossed her light body two feet to the left so she landed deftly on the center of the bed. He turned his back to her, pulled a pair of shorts onto his body and exited the room silently.

* * *

><p>Bulma sat on his bed, still breathing loudly, with only one thought running through her dazed mind, <em>What the fuck<em>. His consuming fire had been short lived and completely internalized. Although, she admitted that what existed had been great, it was agonizingly quick. _I was supposed to be pleased_, she thought peevishly as she slammed her hands down onto his hard bed. She stood up, acknowledged the tinge of pain between her legs and walked unsteadily to her discarded robe. As she slid the silky garment back onto her body, she released a hiss of pain. _Bastard_, she thought to herself as she noted her cloth burned skin. She was beginning to feel a building shame sneak into her consciousness at her impulsive action and a crushing need to get out of his room shot through her body.

Once safely in her room the shame subsided only to be replaced with something worse. A sick sensation began to overtake the beauty as she felt the hot, thick liquid trail down the inside of her legs. She pinched her thighs together and looked down in disgust. Her face crumpled in agony as the thought attacked her, _I'm a slut!_ She jogged to her adjoining bathroom with a desperate need to cleanse herself. She turned the water on and jumped into the barely warm stream of liquid as she began to recognize his distinct smell on her skin.

Although vivacious scrubbing had finally removed his scent from her body, it did nothing for the multiple marks he had left. Her neck had several light bit marks that she guessed the casual observer would not notice, but the front of her arms had long red burn marks that had been caused by his overzealous removal of her clothes. She narrowed her eyes at her reflection and thought to herself, _You got what you deserve, you fool._ Looking at her hips, she also noted distinct bruises forming in the outline of his fingers. She knew no woman in her right mind would think Vegeta's selfish attitude would create a good lover, but she had allowed herself the delusion. Shaking her head, she walked to her bed, forced her face into her soft down pillow and cried quietly.

* * *

><p>By morning, Bulma had decided she did not want dangerous or adventurous or alluringly sexy. She wanted sweet, giving and above all … normal. She had called Yamcha over the next day and wrapped herself around him in a comforting embrace. She sighed happily as his hand softly stroked her back in reassurance. She looked into his smiling face and softly said, "Let's watch movies all day and eat ice cream." She wanted to slouch on the couch all day and attempt to forget about the previous night's mistake. She lightly chuckled to herself with the sense of déjà vu.<p>

Yamcha did not understand her change of heart, but accepted it happily. "Sure thing, sweety." He perked up even more when she planted a light kiss on his cheek. He goofily smiled at her and said, "You pick the movie, and I'll get the ice cream." She pulled herself from his tall frame and smiled up at him beautifully. He trotted off to the living room. He sighed in complete contentment as he sauntered into the kitchen.

_Don't get cocky, Dude_, he told himself as he grabbed the bucket of ice cream. He removed the scooper from the draw, two bowls and spoons from the cabinet and began to dig some of the delicious treat from the container. He looked out the window as he register the energy signal outside surging enormously. The capsule pod stood imposingly in the middle of the lawn. Beams of light were shooting out of the small circular windows in a dazzling spectacle of colors. _Man, that guy is obsessed_, he thought to himself. He replaced the bucket in the freezer and brought the two bowls into the living room.

Bulma sat on the couch Indian style in short shorts and a long sleeve turtle neck. He caught himself momentarily wondering about her shrouding attire before settling down next to her comfortably. The next few hours were absolute bliss according to the human warrior as his long time girl friend snuggled up to him and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>After the previous night's activities, Vegeta had one of the best training runs since residing on the planet. He had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and was able to concentrate solely on the enhanced bots. His mind occasionally drifted to the blue haired woman, but it brought satisfaction rather than the usual frustration. He was proud of his ability to properly utilize the woman. He was starting to feel that he may have inadvertently stumbled upon a gold mine for strength enhancement. The Saiyan stayed in the room all through the night without any of the usual ailments that plagued his ability to focus. He did not feel inferior to his racial counterpart. The fact that he would surpass the third class male was firmly implanted in his mind. With the utilities available to him, it would only be a matter of time.<p>

The thought of a second escapade entered his mind the moment he felt the woman's small ki twinkle into consciousness. He decided to allow time for her to wake and then seek her for further satisfaction. Just as Vegeta was preparing to take a break from training, a recognizable energy signal entered the main house.

The moment Vegeta felt the weak human make his return to Capsule Corporations, he felt his energy responding uncontrollably. Through his anger, he could not comprehend the weakling's presence, but knew he would leave eventually. Hours later the pathetic man was still in the house and Vegeta's stomach was demanding sustenance. He reigned in his anger and commanded his body to his rigid control. He would not allow the woman to see her actions effect on him.

The Prince walked into the kitchen with cool determination and forced his consciousness to ignore the neighboring room. He plucked leftovers from a shelf in the fridge, threw the item angrily into the microwave, and slammed the door shut in as a small burst of anger shot through his arm. He heard a small squeak from the other room and then the weaklings soothing response. He was only remotely aware of the growl which erupted from his throat as he punched random keys into the heating contraption.

* * *

><p>Bulma woke with a start as she heard the disturbing noises of an aggravated Saiyan emanating from the kitchen. She held her small hands in fists on her lap refusing to let the noises ruin her relaxing mood. She began to feel a little guilty for not officially telling Vegeta that their arrangement was not going to work, but then squished the thought as she remembered how he had treated her.<p>

She had just convinced herself that ignoring him would be easy when a strange smell wafted over from the room. She looked at Yamcha inquisitively, and his expression informed her that he smelled it too. _Melting plastic_, she thought to herself in annoyance.

"What's that smell? It's awful," said the man beside her. Yamcha had turned around and was peering over the back of the couch into the kitchen.

Bulma sighed in frustration and stood from her seat of relaxation. "It's the smell of an idiot in the kitchen," she angrily said out loud. She closed her eyes, took an empowering breath and walked towards the neighboring room.

As soon as she entered the room, Vegeta's glare snapped from the microwave window to her nervous frame. "I don't need your help, wench," he shouted at her in a disheveled voice. His demeanor was attempting to be imposing, but she could read the obvious discomfort in his eyes as they shifted from her to the doorway beside her.

"Yeah, I know," she said softly from the door frame. Adding light sarcasm to her voice, she continued, "You do know you can't eat plastic though, right?" Bulma felt that she had a right to be snooty, but attempted to keep the tone from her voice. She heard Yamcha enter the room behind her and saw the reaction in Vegeta. His back straightened and his eyes hardened to an impenetrable blackness. Bulma sighed at the testosterone that was about to fill the room.

Bulma heard Yamcha take a breath to formulate the words that she had no time to stop. "Man, you can't even use a microwave?" Yamcha let out an amused laugh and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He leaned onto his potentially reunited girlfriend and looked at her with a laughing smile.

Her stomach immediately tied into knots and her eyes shot to Yamcha's in exasperation. It was if the man was trying to make a hard situation impossible. Before she could condemn his comment, she heard a primal noise discharge from near the microwave. It sent a shiver up her spine and reminded her of the potentially lethal man with which they shared the room. She shrugged off the taller man's arm and stepped towards the Saiyan. "Do you want me to cook you something?" the young woman asked delicately.

He curled his lip in anger, "Don't patronize me, you slut." His body seemed caught in a tempest of fury which he was trying to control ineffectually. His breathing was labored and veins were popping from every one of the man's exposed muscles.

Bulma felt like a lion tamer trying to cage a murderous beast. _I'm such an idiot_, she thought to herself. Then behind her came her valiant hero with a retort, "Hey! Watch what you say about my woman!" Bulma pulled her teeth together and sucked air through them as a pained expression formed on her face. She stood in anticipation of a Saiyan killing spree, but Vegeta's reaction was different than what she had expected.

A strange calmness washed over the once raging man and a knowing smirk scrapped across his features. Vegeta's eyes mockingly snapped at Yamcha's before he lowly growled, "Your woman, eh?" He opened his mouth to reveal his ominously sharp K9s and let out a derisive laugh.

Absolute fear washed over Bulma as she predicted his next statement. Stepping between the two men, she threw her hands up to stop the impending disaster. "No," she shouted in a mixture of dread and irritation, "stop this." But that did not stop her long time boyfriend from talking.

"Yeah, that's right! She's mine, so you keep your grubby hands off of her!" Yamcha puffed up like a proud gorilla and Bulma practically expected him to beat his hands against his chest in a display of dominance. She wondered where his sudden need to flaunt his ownership came from, but tucked the thought away as she remembered her dire situation.

Vegeta snorted in disbelief before calmly and darkly saying, "I believe the woman is in her own possession." Bulma eyes snapped to the Saiyan's in surprise. Of all the retorts for the irritable man to give, one that fought for her own sovereignty was not what she had expected. _A woman's activist?_ Bulma thought to herself raising one her delicate eyebrows skeptically. "At least that's what she said last night," Vegeta added in a cocky tone and a suggestive smirk.

Bulma's little bubble of esteem deflated immediately with a large exhale of air. "That's it," Bulma shouted in fury. She turned to Yamcha pointed at him angrily and continued, "You, back onto the couch." When he did not move and only continued to glare at the Saiyan incredulously, she roared, "Now!" His eyes looked at Bulma pleadingly, but she shook head and merely continued to point towards the living room. When Yamcha sulked from the kitchen, Bulma turned to Vegeta and commanded, "go sit down."

Vegeta's brow creased in indignation, "Don't tell me what to do, woman." He looked down at her imperiously not moving his firmly implanted feet from the smooth tile floor.

Bulma's blue eyes flashed like the center of a hot, furious fire and descended on the awaiting Saiyan like a pack of ferocious hellhounds. "Listen you self-pleasing, little alien, I am trying to help your arrogant ass!" She attempted to tower her body over his, but he merely crossed his arms in front of his wide chest and smirked at her condescendingly. Bulma stomped over to the fridge and threw the box open angrily. _Nothing_, she said to herself as she bent into the opening. She then descended into a pit of misery as she remembered she could not cook. As she slammed the door shut, every bottle in the jingled together noisily. She looked over her shoulder to find Vegeta's hot gaze on the lower half of her body. "Don't even think about it pig!" she angrily snapped at him and then she mumbled to herself in defeat, "I'll just order take-out."

Vegeta watched amused as dozens of emotions flew through the woman's face. He stepped into her frame and decisively questioned, "What is that weakling doing here, woman?" He watched her form with an expressionless face and waited for her to formulate the words.

Bulma looked into the endless eyes of her Saiyan house guest. If she had not felt such hostility towards the self-important man, she would have pity for his situation. She took a deep breath and said in a painstaking whisper, "He cares for me." The words were hard to force from her dry lips. _Ugh_, she thought to herself, _this is more difficult than I thought it would be_. She glanced at the nearby room apprehensively, before looking again at the steadily increasing anger building in the Saiyan's eyes. "And you don't … so this arrangement," she motioned to Vegeta and herself before continuing in a soft whisper, "It's just not gonna work." She watched fearfully as Vegeta's face fell into a completely unreadable mask, his eyes dulled and face stilled. She looked down at his hands to see them concentrated in a fist before being forced into relaxation at her attention. She bit her lip in worry and struggled out an insecure, "Okay?"

"Inform me when the food is here," he said to her in an unusually monotone voice. Whipping around, he took even strides to the door and exited the room quietly.

Bulma placed her hand on her chest and let out an exhausted sigh. _Well_, she thought, _that went well._

* * *

><p>~~~ Author's Note ~~~<p>

And so ends Part One of Operation Relationship. I think I will call the next part "Picking the Short Straw." Let me know what you think of that title!


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